I hate realizing I forgot to take my
meds. I don’t mind taking them. I need
them to pretend I can function. And
forgetting until the next morning can
be brutal, but I get right up and start
again. But when I realize they didn’t
slide down my throat and enter my
bloodstream in the middle of the day,
or halfway through the time of night
when magic unfolds and destruction
happens, I’m reminded of something.

I’m reminded that these small, white
discs with an indent down the middle
are the only thing keeping me from
climbing the tallest building and
taking a deep breath. I’m reminded
that I’m not in control. I’m reminded
that I wouldn’t want it if I had it.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow